Marshal Law
by Boomer Ou
Summary: Follow two US Marshal's as they try survive Hell on Earth.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dawn of the Dead.**

**Note: This takes place in a Fictional city named Titan City. Also I choose to use walking zombie's .**

Scott Anderson coughed as his partner's cigarette smoke reached his nostrils.

"Put that shit out", said Scott rolling down his window and swing his arm to push the smoke away.

"Take it easy rook", replied Jacob King, Scotts veteran partner. The 40 year old big African-American man flicked his cigarette out of his open window, and it vanished in the dark. He then rolled up his window and turned his head toward Scott."Happy?"

Scott just ignored him and looked at his rear view mirror. Scott kept his dark brown hair short, with his bang's cropped up. His face was void of any facial hair. The young US Marshal looked over at Jacob and said."When are we stopping we haven't eaten since...I don't even remember."

"I like the way your thinking", said Jacob grinning and scanning the streets like a hawk for some where that would serve food.

Scott looked down at the car's digital clock. 10:37 P.M. He brushed some crumbs off his white button up shirt before stretching his arm's.

"Hot meal dead ahead", said Jacob pulling into a desolate parking lot. A few other car's were scattered about it. He wasn't surprised given the time and all. Jacob pulled up next to a red Camaro. Somebody has a lot of money, Scott thought to himself as Jacob turned off the car. Scott pulled his door handle and pushed it out. He stepped out of the car let out a big yawn.

"Aren't tired are ya?", asked Jacob.

"Why would I be, only been on the road for 8 hour's", said Scott.

Jacob chuckled and the two Marshal's began to approach the diner. 'Chief's diner' it read on the roof.

"I bet you an Indian owns this place", said Jacob as they neared the door.

"I think you mean Native American", said Scott.

"Yea what ever I call em Indians", said Jacob.

Scott reached the door 1st, pulling it open letting two old women walk out and Jacob walk in. He followed after his partner letting the door slam shut.

The TV was glaring on about the strange wave of violent behavior sweeping the world. Scott had yet to encounter any of these 'rioters' as they called them. But he had heard about them from friends. Plus it was all over the news and internet.

"Hope Nel is OK", muttered Jacob as he slumped down into a booth.

"I'm sure she is", said Scott sitting down opposite of Jacob. The two Marshal's had drawn a few curious looks, mainly because the gun's holstered at their waists. Scott looked down at his chrome M92F. They tried to make him carry a Glock, but he was to fond of his M92F. Jacob didn't mind so Scott just left the Glock in the car most times.

A thin young blonde haired woman approached the two men. Her skin was very well tanned which was surprising considering they were in a coastal city. Her tag read 'Allison'.

"May I take your order?", she asked in a surprisingly cheerful voice, considering the late hour and all.

Jacob scanned the menu his eyes moving all over the plastic covered paper.

Scott spoke up first."I'll have the tenderloin".

She scribbled it down on to her pad."And to drink?"

"Coke", Scott said.

"And you, sir?" she asked Jacob.

"The KC strip with a Coke also", said Jacob setting his menu down on the table. The waitress Allison scooped up both menus and turned back towards the kitchen and hustled off towards it. Scott laid his head back closing his eye's. He thought about their current assignment. They were suppose to pick up some crime witness from the local sheriff. They were still a few hours from their destination though. They were expected tomorrow . It was one of the easier assignments.

Scott was roused by the waitress returning with their drinks. She set both cokes down on the table. She smiled and was about to turn away before Jacob said to her."Excuse me Allison but could you tell me some where we could find to rest?"

She turned back towards him and said."Right across the street is a nice hotel".

Jacob thanked her and she walked off back towards the kitchen. Scott laid his head back down.

Scott tossed his duffel bag down at the foot of the bed. The motel room was very small. All that was in it was a queen sized bed, a small TV on a dresser, and a table with 2 chairs. No bathroom and no shower. He approached the table, placed near his bed, and removed his pistol holster and badge. He set them both down on the table. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt tossing it on to one of the chairs, revealing a white sleeveless under shirt he then kicked off his back spit shined loafers. He took a seat at the foot of the bed scooping the remote up off the mattress. He pressed the power button.

"...The number of people exhibiting his behavior is increasing in our city and it is recommended that all civilians stay in doors unless they must leave their home", a man in a navy colored police uniform was saying.

Wonder whats making people act so crazy, thought Scott. Guess its the full moon, he thought looking out side up at the glaring white full moon.

He eased him self back down on the bed, his feet still hanging off and slowly drifted to sleep.

Jacob was roused by the sound of his phone ringing. His eyes shot open. He had his hand on Glcok and was scanning the small motel room.

"Damn thing", he muttered fishing the phone out of his slacks pocket. He looked to see who was calling. It was his wife. Uh oh, he thought to himself. He flipped open the phone.

"Hello", he said in a worn out voice.

"Jacob one of those crazies is trying to break into the house!", his wife squealed. Jacob could hear banging in the back round.

"Did you call the police?", asked Jacob standing up. Not that he could do anything from here.

"Yes but there line was busy", replied his wife.

"What?", asked Jacob. Is it that bad there, he thought to himself.

"What do we do Jacob!", yelled his hysterical wife.

Jacob thought for a second."You and the kids get to basement, but first go upstairs and under mattress his a .38. Fully loaded. Grab it, all you do to fire it is pull the hammer back."

"OK", sobbed his wife.

"Nel I love you", whined Jacob, angry and sad he could do nothing from where he was to help his wife.

"I love you too", she replied. He could hear his two sons crying in the background. Damn it!, his mind screamed.

"I'll call Hank and have him check on you", said Jacob.

"Alright", said Nel who had calmed down a bit.

"I'll talk to you later", he said in a calm voice, trying to comfort her.

"OK", she said.

Jacob flipped close the phone. There was nothing else he could say. He flipped it back open and opened up his contacts. Scrolling through it he found Hank's, his brother, number. He pressed the call button and waited.

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_Ring_ _..._

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

It finally just went to his voice mall. A youthful voice said:

"_Yo this is Hank if your hearing this I'm either working or partying, I'll get back to ya when I get back to ya"._

"Fuck!", yelled Jacob throwing his phone down at the bed. He yelled Fuck a few more times before there was bang on the wall next to his.

"Shut the hell up!", yelled a voice.

Jacob took a deep breath and sat down on the side of his bed. I need to get some sleep, he thought to himself. But how can I sleep when my wife and kids are in danger. I'm sure they'll be fine, basement has a strong door and she can handle a .38.

He seemed to convince himself things would be alright, he laid his body down on the bed. He reached over to the lamp and flipped off the light. He then slowly drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing_

Scott's eyes slowly opened as he reached over and grabbed the phone. He put the receiver to his mouth.

"Yea?"

"This is your wake up call, Mr Anderson", came a reply from the other end.

"Thanks", muttered Scott blinking a few times and then setting the phone back down. He swung his feet off the bed, looking over at the digital clock. It read in bold red letters 6:02 AM. He approached his suitcase. When he reached it he bent over and unzipped it. He pulled his white under shirt off and tossed it in the suitcase. He grabbed a gray short sleeved shirt that read "USMS" on the front and pulled it on over his torso. He unbuttoned his slacks and eased them down. He bent over and pulled them off, doing the same for his boxer's. He grabbed a navy colored pair of brief's and slid them on along with a pair of stone washed blue jeans. Next he grabbed a pair of black Nike tennis shoes and pulled them out along with a pair of black short socks. He pulled his dress socks off and slid on his short ones, he then put both shoes on over them.

He gathered up all his dirty clothes and tossed them in his suitcase, which he then zipped up. He approached the table where his badge and gun lay. He scooped up his badge 1st, clipping it on to his waist, then doing the same for his M92F. Wonder whats going on today, he thought to himself grabbing on to the remote. He pressed the power button and the TV flipped on. His eyes shot open as he saw what was on the screen. It was a live feed of Titan City, it showed the hospital court yard where a group of those 'infected', they called them now, were stumbling out of its door. They ranged from doctors in their white lab coats too patients in the blue gowns. A line of officers dressed in riot gear stood to meet them. A few firing canisters of tear gas towards the crowd, having no effect though. As the group got closer to the officers the reporter tried to move in closer. Getting right behind the line of officers. The group was with in 10 feet and they were not backing down. The first one to reach the line of officers was quickly shoved back by an officer holding a riot shield. The line was about 7 men strong, all armed with night sticks and riot shields. The remainder of the group attacked in bulk. All 25 or so fumbling into the officers. It was a blood bath. The infected tore into the visible parts of the officers arms, the men were taken back to say the least. The group overran the line in a matter of 30 seconds or so. Scott shook his head in disgust. The camera man had long dropped the camera and was gone, the reporter wasn't so lucky. From the angle the camera had fallen, her entire body was visible. Two men in blue gowns knelt above her screaming body. She tried to crawl away. She got right by the camera. The men leaned over her stomach and tore into it.

"Oh my god", muttered Scott flipping off the TV.

I think its time we got the hell out of here, Scott thought to himself approaching his duffel bag. A loud female scream was let. It sounded like it came from the lobby. Scott undid his holster and whipped out his M92F. He ejected the clip into his left palm. It was full. He slid it back in. He pointed the barrel in the air and pulled back the slide. He lowered the gun so its barrel was aimed on the ground. He trotted toward his door at a steady speed. Wonder if Jacob is awake yet, he thought to himself turning the door knob and looking out into the dimly lit hall way. It was still fairly dark out so it was kind of hard for Scott to see as he moved down the hall way.

The hallway wasn't very long, the motel only housed about 10 rooms, all on the same floor all in the same hall.

_BANG!_

Not good, Scott thought to himself quickening his pace. He lifted his gun up as he turned the corner. The Marshal was surprised at the scene to say the least.

First behind the desk, the young African-American clerk was huddled back against the wall of the motel. Then there were two men in navy blue police uniforms. The first officer was older, with short salt and pepper colored hair, in his hands he held a smoking M92F. The second cop was more close to Scott's age. He had well tanned skin with a head of black messy hair, in his hand's a Remington 870. Both officers trained their weapons on a pale blonde haired man. He was in casual clothes that were drenched in blood. His eye were hidden by his hair. He had multiple bullet wounds covering his torso, from the handgun Scott judged.

"How the hell is this fucker still walking!?", shouted the younger officer.

The older officer just lined his sights on the man chest and fired. The gun jumped in the cops hands a little. The round slammed into the pale man. Causing him to stumble backwards, nearly falling over. But he quickly regained his balance, far from dead. He let out a long moan before he started to shuffle towards the officers. That when he noticed the body on the floor. It was pale just like the blonde man. Dressed like an average person covered in blood. He also shared the large array off bullet holes in his torso, just like the blonde man. There was just 1 hole in his forehead though. It didn't take Scott long to figure out how to take the seemingly bullet proof man down.

Scott lowered his gun a little, leveling it with the man's head. Scott looked down his chrome sights. It lined directly up with the side of the mans forehead. Scott removed the safety, slowly moving his gun to keep the shot lined up. Once the safety clicked off he moved his finger on to the trigger, and squeezed.

_BANG!_

A hole erupted through the side of the pale mans head. Red mist squirted out of the bullet wound and the man almost instantly crumpled to the ground. Scott lowered his gun. I'm guessing they were infected with that virus, he thought to him self. He tucked the gun back in his holster. The two officers had turned towards him and the clerk was out of the fetal postion.

"Good work, son", said the older officer approaching Scott, the younger one following on cue.

"Thank you officer, for future reference it looks like head shots take them down quickest", said Scott.

The older cop reached Scott and held out his hand. Scott gripped the mans head firmly shaking it.

"That was a good shot, mind telling us who you are?", asked the older man releasing Scotts hand.

"Scott Anderson, United State Marshal Service", said Scott indicating his badge clipped to his belt."And you?"

"I'm Sargent Allen Pierce", said the older man."That's officer Peter Billington."

"Can always use a Marshals help", said the younger man, Peter, also shaking Scotts hand.

Scott nodded."How bad is it out?"

"It's getting worst, seems like today the number of reports sky rocketed, we can't even keep up anymore", said Allen now holstering his hand gun.

Scott shook his head in disappointment.

"Scott what the hell is going on out here?", asked Jacob emerging from the dark hallway. His Glock 22 was drawn and held in both hands. He was dressed in the same clothes he wore last night.

"We had some trouble with some of the sick people", said Scott looking over at the two corpses.

"So you shot them!?", yelled Jacob nearing the young Marshal.

"The man he shot had just ripped another man to shreds and was heading towards me and my partner to do the same", said Allen looking at Jacob.

"And you are?", asked Jacob.

"Allen Pierce", said Allen again."And that's my partner, Peter."

"Just call me Jacob, I'm sure Scott has informed you of who we are", said Jacob tucking his gun in his holster.

Scott nodded.

"Well we're glad we could help but...", Scott was saying until he was cut off by a yell.

"Oh my god they're everywhere!", yelled a man as he and a group of 5 or so people burst through the motel's wooden double doors.

"What the hell are you talking about?", asked Allen looking at the man. The man was Native American from the looks of him. Long black hair, dark tan skin, dressed in a navy blue shirt that read 'Chiefs diner' and a pair of blue jeans.

"The walking dead, theirs a whole crowd down the street, heading towards us", panted the man.

The walking dead? That what they're calling them now?, Scott thought to himself.

"We need to barricade the doors", said the clerk.

"Now damn it, these people are just sick, they are not dead!", shouted Allen approaching the door, gripping his pistol by its but.

"Now Allen wait a second, you saw how hard it was to kill one of them, we can't fight off a crowd", said Peter moving towards the older cop and gripping his shoulder.

Allen stopped for a moment, probably to think. Peter looked at the older cop, a look of anxiousness on his face.

"Your right", said Allen in a low voice.

The group had mostly moved to the back, except for the Native American man who was trying to drag a wooden bench in front of the now locked door. Scott was first to react. Scott slowly trotted toward the bench. He nodded towards the Native American man as he reached it. He grabbed the other end, and together the two men lifted the bench. They moved as fast as they could towards the wooden double doors. The others starting to help barricade the door. Scott and the man reached the door, and gently eased the bench down in front of it.

"Good work", said the man who was already moving to find another piece of furniture to use as a barricade. Scott brushed his hands on his jeans.

"Come on Scotty, don't want to get eaten do ya?", asked Jacob picking up a leather recliner.

"Doesn't matter what I want," he muttered and then got back at work.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott eased him self on to the motel's front desk counter. Seeing how most of the furniture was being used for a barricade he didn't have much a choice of where to sit.

Jacob and Allen both stood by a small table set up near the hallway, a large city map spread out as the two older men scanned over it like hawks. Peter and the waitress from last night, Allison, stood by a lamp, chatting about something. Then there were about 8 other people Scott counted. 4 from the group that had come in earlier, not counting Allison, and then another 3 who had been staying here and the motel clerk whose manager had apparently went out for breakfast. Sitting on the only couch not being used as a barricade was a man and 2 women. The man looked fairly young, Scott recognized him from the group. He had longish blonde hair with a short neatly cut beard. Dressed in cargo shorts and a beige shirt. The 1st women, who had also come in with the group, sat in the center, she had long, curly, sandy blonde hair. She wore a pair of tight blue jeans along with a yellow sleeveless shirt. She leaned against the blonde mans chest. The last women on the couch had not come in with the group. She also looked much older. Her face was covered in wrinkles and Scott noticed she coughed very often. She had long red hair and wore a white dress that was too short for her. She smoked a cigarette, not her 1st one during their short time at the motel. Then their was the motel clerk who stood in a corner by himself, talking on his cell phone. The Native American man from earlier sat by himself near the couch. He fiddled with a vicious looking long Bowie knife. He looked like he knew how to use it too. Then there was a bearded man in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. His brown hair was medium and length and very unkempt. Scott guessed he had been staying in the hotel. Not to far from him stood a Hispanic man. He had a shaved head and wore a tan colored shirt and a pair of black jeans. Scott also figured this man had been staying here. The last person, who had come in with the group, was a women who looked around Scott's age. She wore a navy colored t-shirt along with a pair of short black shorts. She looked like maybe she had been jogging before ...this. She had long strait brown hair with tanned skin. She stood by her self against a wall, usually looking down at her running shoes.

Now what do we do? Scott slid of the counter and approached Jacob and Allen. The two me quietly talked as they studied over the map.

"Back ally looks blocked off", said Jacob in a grim voice.

"I can go check if you want", said Allen looking up at Jacob.

Jacob nodded and the cop turned towards the back door of the motel and hustled off.

"Any way out?", asked Scott.

"If the back ally is blocked off like it looks, the only other way out besides the front door would be jumping across the building next to us roof", said Jacob.

Scott chuckled at the older man.

"I'm not kidding", stated Jacob in a serious tone.

"Oh", said Scott in a low voice.

On a different note Scott asked."Here anything from the wife?"

Jacob looked up at Scott with an angry look on his face.

"Don't worry about it."

"Alright, sorry", said Scott.

Scott turned away from his fellow Marshal and looked around at the small group. God I hate waiting, he thought to him self. Everyone was chatting with someone now, except the brunette women. Scott found his eyes drifting down to her mostly bare legs. Nice, he thought to himself. He shook his head. You need to focus, he told himself. But then again Jacob didn't need him yet, he could go chat with her for a little while. Scott slightly nodded his head and approached the women. Who looked up as he was within a few steps of her. She slightly smiled as he neared her. A very slight smile.

"Hello", he said.

"Hi", she replied.

"So whats your name?", he asked her.

"Lisa", she replied."You?"

"Scott Anderson".

She nodded, looking down at his gun.

"US Marshal", he said in an almost cocky tone.

"Good to know we have a Marshal here protecting us", she said.

"Two actually", he said looking over at Jacob."I'm the good looking one, hes the intimidating one."

She let another slight smile cross her lips."Clearly."

His face flushed a little red.

"Scott get over here", said Jacob in a loud voice. Scott turned towards Jacob. Allen and Peter both stood beside him now. Scott turned back towards Lisa.

"We'll talk later I guess", he said.

"Yea sure", she said.

He turned back towards Jacob and trotted towards him.

"What?", he asked reaching the 3 law men.

"If your done flirting we think we have a way out", said Jacob.

"Just talking", Scott said before Jacob continued.

"What ever", said Jacob."We're going to move everyone to the roof, cross over to the small store next to us, gather supplies, then you see that guy over there with the beard, his names Chad and he has a semi parked outside. We're going to load the supplies into his empty semi, and drive off to somewhere safe, probably the docks bunch of empty ware house's there."

"Wait why do we need to do this?", asked Scott. Are things really that bad? He thought to himself.

"Things are worst then we thought, the city is overrun from what I hear", said Jacob.

"Who'd you hear that from?", asked Scott.

"Just about everyone here", said Jacob.

"Not long ago we lost contact with our HQ", added Allen.

Damn, thought Scott.

"Allen and Peter will get everyone up and moving, me and you will go scout out the roof", said Jacob.

Scott nodded.

Peter and Allen nodded and turned towards the area where the bulk of the group sat. Scott followed after Jacob who head towards a door the read 'Roof'. Jacob reached the door, putting his hand on the knob and waiting for Scott.

You got to be kidding me, thought Scott to himself grabbing his pistol and pulling it out of its holster. He raised it with both hands and aimed it at the door. Stopping a few feet away from it he lined up the sites with the sigh that read 'Door'. He slightly nodded his head.

Jacob yanked open the door. And nothing. Jacob had now drawn his Glock and aimed it up the stair case.

"Is this really necessary?", asked Scott lowering his gun.

"Probably not", said Jacob moving up the stairs, being sure to keep his gun up.

Scott lowered his gun so the barrel pointed to the ground and jogged after Jacob.

The stair case only consisted of about 40 steps so it didn't take long of the two men to reach the top. Jacob pushed out the metal door leading out side. Scott stepped out side 1st. A few sprinkles of rain fell, the looked dark and gloomy. Seemed to go with the mood. He scanned the area. It was a very small roof, just like the motel. And the jump to the next building looked very intimidating. Scott walked towards the ledge of the building. Jacob close behind him. The jump looked to be about five feet across. Scott figured he could clear it without much trouble, but some others might have some trouble.

"Not too bad", said Jacob climbing onto the ledge and looking across to the small shop.

"For you and me", added Scott.

"That old smoker might have some trouble", said Jacob.

"How about you carry her?", asked Scott.

"Funny", said Jacob.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

All 13 people stood assembled on the roof of the motel. Just waiting. All the civilians were huddled together near the ledge while the Marshal's and cops talked.

Jacob turned towards the civilians.

"Alright, everyone will have a certain job, we need to move quick so we can get in and get out", said Jacob."We'll mostly work in two man teams."

"Allan and Shane, canned foods", said Jacob looking at Allen and then the blonde man. Both of which who nodded.

"Allison and Brad, drinks", said Jacob looking at Allison and then the Native American man. Both nodded

"Peter and Sherry, painkillers and any other useful meds", said Jacob looking at Peter then the sandy haired women. Both nodded.

"Scott and Lisa, flashlights and batteries", said Jacob looking at Scott then Lisa. Both nodded. Scott looked over at her, she smiled towards him which he returned with one of his own.

"Chad and Jose, tools", said Jacob looking at Chad then the Hispanic man. Both nodded.

"I'll take Calvin and Carry, survival gear", said Jacob. The clerk and the red haired women nodded.

"Alright lets do this", said Jacob.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott raised his pistol as he waited for Jacob to pull open the shops roof door. He gave Jacob a slight nod and the man yanked open the door. Scott tensed up in his shooting stance. All clear.

Jacob moved from behind the door, his torch lit and attached to his Glock. Scott hadn't bother taking his out of the car. Both Allan and Peter carried torch's but other wise no one else had one. But the small sun light illuminated the way down the stairs and if Scott remembered right the shop had large glass windows in the front.

Jacob slowly moved down the stairs, closely followed by Scott then Allen. The 3 men slowly descended the stair case. All off them keeping their handguns up and ready for any thing. Jacob reached a platform. Directly down the steps was the door to the shop.

Jacob slowly climbed down the steps. His Glock pointed at the ground for the time being. He reached the bottom and waited for Scott to take position next to the door. When Scott reached the ground level he slowly trotted to the left side of the door. He kept his M92F in his left hand, pointed toward the ground. He reached over with his left hand. He slowly moved his free hand to the door knob. He turned it and pushed it outwards.

Jacob brought his pistol up. Scanning the area with his hawk like eyes. The torch shined all over the store. He couldn't see any infected but it was more then possible their were some there. Jacob looked back towards Allan and nodded. Signaling for him to go get the other survivors.

"Go check the front doors", whispered Jacob looking at Scott.

Scott gave him the thumbs up sign and placed his gun back in his right hand. The young Marshal quietly entered the shop. Jacob entered right after him, keeping his torch one and slowly moving it across the shop. Scott could see it most areas, the blue light of the mourning illuminating his way to the front doors. He was right about the windows. There were plenty of them. Too many. All an infected had to do was look towards the shop and they would see them.

Scott slowly neared the glass doors. He was glad to see when he got close enough that they weren't electronic. He didn't have the key so if they weren't locked he didn't know what Jacob wanted him to do. He moved his hand to the door. Give it a small pull. Locked. But that raised another question. How would they get out? I guess we'll worry about it when the time comes, he told himself. He then noticed the large group of infected to their right. Banging on the motel wooden doors. He had to move to his left a little to get a view. All together about 20 he guessed. If they were slow like the one from earlier it wouldn't be too hard to out maneuver them. Scott turned back towards the shop, scanning its isles. It was pretty well stocked. He figured they would have no trouble finding plenty of supplies. Allan then emerged from the staircase the line of survivors behind him.

They began to break off from each other, into their 2 man groups, or 3 in 1 case, all heading in separate directions. Scott headed towards where Lisa stood, waiting for him. He tucked his pistol in its holster. He would need his hands free.

"Where do you want to start?", she asked looking around at the shop.

"We should get a duffel bag or back pack first, to load it in", said Scott jogging off, past a few isles, carefully scanning each one. She followed after him. He noticed a few of the other survivors grabbing stuff already, just loading it into plastic bags. Scott stopped near the 7th isle and entered it. A few bags and suitcase lined the shelves. Scott quickly grabbed a large black duffel bag, Lisa grabbed a smaller one. Scott slung the bag across his shoulder and neck. He then quickly moved off in the opposite direction he had come from. Stopping at the 12th isle. Lisa close behind. He spotted flashlights and lamps. No batteries though.

"Lisa check up front their might be some batteries up there", said Scott approaching the racks of flashlights.

Lisa nodded and headed off towards the front of the store. Scott unzipped the duffel bag and began grabbing flashlights off the racks, ripping them off and tossing them in his bag. Don't forget to grab some lamps, he told himself as he loaded the bag. After he figured he had gathered a good amount of flashlights he slowly began to approach the lamps. Won't be able to carry many of these, he told himself. He could only fit 5 into his bag. Now that it was full he quickly zipped it up. He would need at least his right hand free for his gun. He grabbed a small compact flashlight he ripped at its plastic case. He hated those things. After about 30 seconds of pulling he managed to get it open. He pulled out the small light and flipped it on and off. It worked perfect. He tucked it in to his left pocket.

"Ahhhhhhh!", screamed a female voice he didn't recognize. It was very throaty so he figured it was the old red haired women, Carry. Before Scott could even pull his gun from its holster and gun shot rang out. The sound echoed off the walls. Fuck, he thought to himself.

_BANG!_

It was the shotgun this time he was sure. Scott was sprinting in the direction of the gun shots. His pistol drawn and in his hands. He turned the corner off the isle he had been in. Jacob stood with his Glock barrel smoking, Peter the same with his shotgun. Calvin was on his knees holding a washcloth over Carry's leg. Blood seeped out from the wound. The body of a man in a blue apron lay on the floor. His head was smashed to pieces from the shot guns buckshot.

"Jacob we have to now!", said Scott in a load whisper.

"Everyone assemble at the back door!", yelled Jacob.

"What the fuck do you want every infected in the city here, keep your voice down!", hissed Scott in another loud whisper. Jacob shot him a mean look before picking up the large duffel bag he had loaded his stuff in and slinging it across his back. Jacob approached Calvin who still held a cloth over the wound.

"Cal me and you are going to lift her", said Jacob looking down at the younger man."OK?"

The man nodded very quickly, clearly very scared.

Jacob pulled the cloth from her leg. And grabbed her right arm. Calvin grabbed her left. The two men gently and quickly as possible hoisted her up. She screamed in pain. Not bothering to try and suppress her yells.

"Carry I need you to keep your voice down", whispered Jacob as he and Calvin slowly moved across the store towards the back door. Scott and Peter led the way both keeping their guns up and at the ready. Then their were foot steps. Both men quickly stopped to avoid a collision with Chad and Jose, both men also carrying duffel bags.

"Shit", muttered Chad as he came to a sliding halt.

"Keep moving", said Scott running towards the back door.

Chad and Jose quickly fell in line behind Peter and Scott. Jacob, Calvin, and the injured Carry lagging behind.

"Either of you boys know how to use a gun?", asked Jacob drawing his Glock with his free hand.

"I'm an ex-Ranger", replied Jose.

"Here", said Jacob tossing the handgun in Jose's direction. Jose turned a little towards Jacob. He easily caught the gun and continued forward. Keeping the gun pointed toward the ground.

Scott could see the back door a few yards ahead. He counted the survivors assembled at the door. All of them were there. Perfect. Scott reached them 1st quickly followed by Peter, Jose, and Chad. Jacob. Calvin, and Carry still lagging behind. Scott approached the door keeping his gun up. The crowd parted so he could reach it. He let go of the gun with his left hand and moved his left hand towards the door. He slowly pushed it open with his left hand. It looked clear as he slowly pushed it open inch by inch. The door made a very annoying creak that made his skin crawl. As he neared the final few inches he gathered that the door lead to a back ally. He moved into the ally as the door was fully opened. Keeping his pistol raised as he looked around. He turned back and nodded. Allan followed right after him.

"I say we take a small group to retrieve the semi, while the rest of the people wait here with the stuff", said Allan removing the bag from his shoulder and setting it down."Plus it would give some people time to get more stuff."

Scott nodded agreeing with the idea. It made good sense."Alright me, you, Jacob, Jose, and Chad can go get the semi while Peter guards the rest of the survivors."

"Sounds good", replied Allan checking his handgun clip.

The rest of the survivors poured out of the semi. Scott informed Jacob of the plan, also agreeing with it he told the rest of the group. Peter wanted to go with them but Jacob insisted that some one who knew how to use a gun well stayed behind. Peter gave up his resistance and agreed to stay. They also convinced him to let Jose use his shotgun while he used the M92F.

"Good luck", muttered Peter handing Jose the pistol and heading away from the 5 men.

"Check your guns", said Scott ejecting his clip. 14 shots. Plus 2 clips in reserve. Scott slammed the clip back into the gun and pulled back the slide. The other men doing the same. Jose pumped the shot gun with an evil grin on his face.

"Lets move", said Jacob heading towards the end of the ally. There was a wall that separated the shops ally from the motels ally, the wall adjacent to where Jacob stood. Jacob entered the ally they had jumped earlier to get to the shops roof. Scott right behind him then Chad, Allan, and Jose. The 5 men slowly trotted up the ally. No infected so far.

Jacob emerged from the ally his handgun raised. Scott followed close behind him. Keeping his M92F raised as he emerged. The infected had noticed them by now and a few were slowly turning towards them and began to shuffled towards them.

"Scott you and Allan stay here and hold them off, the rest of us will head to the semi. You fall back as soon as we pass you!", yelled Jacob over the infected moans.

Scott and Allan both nodded.

Jacob, Jose, and Chad broke off from the group, heading to the left to move around the group of infected slowly approaching Scott and Allan. Scott raised his pistol. He looked through the site of the gun. Lining it up on the head off a burly man in a blue jump suit. The man shuffled towards him, dragging his foot along, Scott assumed it was broken. How can he push though that pain? Scott slowly moved his finger to the trigger. He heard Allen open fire beside him.

_Bang!_

The round slammed into the mans throat. Causing him to stumbled back a bit, but otherwise no effect. Impossible, even if the drugs these fuckers is on can give them immense pain resistance there is no way this guy could only be taken back by a shot through the throat! He fired again. This time the round hit the man square in the forehead. He fell backwards, onto an elderly women. Causing her to fall to the ground with him. She squirmed trying to push the now lifeless corpse off her but to no avail. The rest of the crowd pushed forward. Scott fired at a red haired man, nailing him in the chest, no effect. He moved the sight up to his head. He squeezed the trigger again. The round slammed through his open mouth, quickly silencing the moan he was about to let out. His body flew backwards as well. The other infected just pushed it aside continuing forward. Scott heard the trucks engine rev up. Which caught the attention of a few infected. Scott and Allan slowly started to back up. Still firing their guns, occasionally nailing a head shot. It was more of a supresive fire.

The semi sped out of the motel's parking lot. Scott fell back into the ally. He aimed at a dark skinned man and squeezed the trigger.

_Click_

"Fuck", he muttered ejecting the empty click and letting it fall to the ground. He reached in his holster and yanked out another full clip. He moved it towards the gun and slammed it in just as Jacob, Jose, and Chad sped by.

Scott slowly began to move backwards, not wasting anymore ammo. Allan reluctantly did them same still firing on the infected. Scott reached the end of the ally and waited for Allan to reach him. As Allan reached the end off the ally Scott turned and headed towards where the other survivors waited. The semi was there and people were loading the bags into it. Scott noticed they had managed to get a lot more stuff while they had been gone. He was impressed. He tucked his handgun in its holster. He jogged towards the bags. Picking up 2, one in each hand. He jogged towards the semi's trailer where Jacob and Jose stood in hoisting stuff into the trailer. Scott reached it tossing them the bags.

"Last ones!", yelled the blonde man, Shane tossing 2 bags up to Jose who caught them and moved them to the front of the trailer.

"Everyone in!", yelled Jacob looking at the end of the ally. The infected had rounded the corner and slowly but surely moved towards them.

Calvin and Peter lifted Carry up, Jacob took the then woman's arms and helped her in. Her skin was very pale and she seemed like she was feeling bad. Scott wondered if the bite was getting infected or something. Scott turned toward the crowd that shambled towards them. It was getting close. Calvin hoisted himself into the semi trailer. Lisa followed after him. Scott was the last one. Scott hoisted him self up with ease. The infected were now very close. As soon as he had cleared his legs Jacob and Jose pulled the semi's doors shut, and then locked them from inside.


End file.
